Drowning
by kittiexkat
Summary: With LGBT teen suicide at the front of people's minds, Emma decides to have a talk with Kurt. Will assigns the gleeks to find songs about hope or hopelessness. Kurt-centric; Sam/Kurt friendship, possibly more; main disclaimer posted before Chapter 1.
1. Chapter 1

**First off, I wanted to comment on the fact that I feel extremely guilty for drawing from the events that gave me the idea for this story – I would much rather this story never exist than have the reality of these suicides. I know that this isn't a topic to be taken lightly. It just seemed to be an issue that would have some effect on Kurt, if Glee were truly to be happening in "real-time", and once the idea wormed it's way into my head, I couldn't make it go away. In the event that someone personally connected to any of the recent deaths - or, honestly, anyone who's dealt with suicide in some way during their lives - stumbles across this story, I am so sorry; I don't mean any disrespect, harm or offense.**

**That being said, I'd also like to emphasize that **_**suicide isn't the answer**_**. Please find help if you're feeling like it is. _Please_. Believe me – you matter, as does your life.**

**And now onto the story... I hope you all enjoy it.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Glee, nor do I own the characters portrayed in this story.**

* * *

"Kurt, Ms. Pillsbury would like to speak with you."

Kurt looked up at his French teacher, his entire world seeming to stop for a moment. This wasn't about his dad, not again. It couldn't be; he couldn't handle that right now. But why else would the guidance counsellor be summoning him? He swallowed hard before nodding and forcing himself to stand up and leave the classroom. Nervously, he made his way to her office, taking a few deep, calming breaths before he opened the door and joined her inside.

"Is he okay?" He hadn't meant to say it – and he especially hadn't meant to sound so terrified – but his instincts had taken over. He _needed_ to know that his dad was okay. Emma seemed confused for a moment before she gasped.

Shaking her head, she motioned for Kurt to sit down. "No, sweetheart, he's fine," she assured him, smiling gently, "This isn't about your father."

Relief flooded through him, causing him to let out a breath that he hadn't even realized he was holding. He let that settle for a moment before continuing to process the situation – if this wasn't about his father, why on earth was he here? He settled into the seat across from Emma, meeting her gaze in confusion, "If this isn't about my dad..." He trailed off, assuming she'd understood his point.

She offered another small smile before reaching out to grab a stack of papers from the corner of her desk. "Would I be correct in assuming that you know what's been going on in the news lately?" she asked, glancing up at him as she absently thumbed through the pages – they looked a bit like news articles, mainly ones that had been printed from the internet.

Kurt just looked at her blankly for a moment – the news? What did that have to do with anything? "Of course," he answered after another moment, "I always read the paper, but I'm not really sure what that has to do with me being h..." He trailed off again, paling slightly as he realized what this was about. "_Oh_," was all he managed as Emma sighed softly and set the articles down in front of him, confirming his suspicions. "You know, this isn't exactly a new issue," he commented absently, determinedly looking away from the eyes of the boy staring up at him from the top article.

She nodded, accepting his point, before adding, "But it's been brought to the forefront of our minds in recent weeks, and I knew that I needed to reach out to you, Kurt." She caught his gaze as she continued, "I hear these stories, and I think to myself, 'where were their counsellors? How different would things be if someone had tried to talk to them?' I have an obligation to be here for all of the students here, and that includes you."

Kurt forced a smile, holding her gaze as he spoke, "I appreciate the gesture, Ms. Pillsbury, but I assure you, I'm fine." The statement wasn't entirely true, though, if he was to be completely honest, but Kurt Hummel was far too proud to admit that he was struggling. Her next words sent his plan to walk out of there within the next few minutes crashing down around him.

"May I ask if you're still on Prozac?" After taking in the stunned look on Kurt's face, she looked down, pulling a folder towards herself. "It's in your file," she explained, "But the note was added five years ago, so I don't really want to work under the assumption that you're still taking them."

Kurt smoothed a few wrinkles out of his jeans, not looking at the woman across from him. Finally, he broke the silence, his voice lower than it usually was, "I'm still taking them, yes." He'd started taking them a few years after his mother's death – he'd never fully left the grieving process, and once he'd started coming to terms with his sexuality, things had spiralled out of control until his father had caught him trying to burn himself. He'd only done it a few times prior to that, and had rarely done it since. He refused to admit to anyone that he was depressed, especially that he was being medicated for it, but he couldn't deny how much the pills seemed to help him. Most days.

Silence lingered for another moment before Emma leaned forward slightly, resting her chin against her folded hands. "I worry about you, Kurt," she admitted, "Your sexuality puts you at a higher risk for suicidal behaviours, and the bullying that I know you face doesn't do anything to lower that risk. Nor does the stress of the recent situation with you father," she added. "You're a strong person, and I admire that in you, but I just want to make sure you know that I am here to listen whenever you don't really feel like being strong."

"Um," Kurt shifted uncomfortably, his gaze dropping again, "Thanks."

She nodded, smiling a bit sadly, "I also know there's a chance that you may not want to talk to me, for fear of me being unable to fully relate to you." She was, by no means, trying to discourage him from confiding in her, and she hoped he realized that. "I can, however, make sure that you have access to people who do have direct experience with your situation," she continued, turning around for a moment and picking a pamphlet up off of her counter. Turning back around, she set it down in front of him. "They're called The Trevor Project," she explained, "They provide an all-hours hotline for gay teens who are feeling suicidal, among other programs."

"I'm not s-, I mean... well. I," he stammered, "I wouldn't... actually." He wrapped his arms around himself slightly, looking down at the pamphlet and news articles. "I couldn't," he admitted, "I see the reactions to stories like this, and I tell myself I won't do that to the people who care about me. Th-those quotes, those interviews with crying loved ones, that's never going to be about me. Not if I have anything to say about it." He risked a quick glance up at her, a genuine, although sad, smile gracing his features, "I truly do appreciate your concern, but you don't need to worry about me." He ran his fingers over the title of one of the articles, collecting his thoughts while Emma patiently gave him the time to think.

"It's been breaking my heart," he noted after a long silence, "It seems like I keep waking up to another story like this, and I keep thinking, 'what if we'd known each other? What if I could've made them feel a little less alone? What if... what if I could've loved them?'" Kurt sighed sadly, shaking his head, "I know what it's like to feel alone." The pain was clear in his voice and Emma felt her heart cracking as he continued, "I know what it's like waking up and wishing you hadn't, or wishing you could stop being the way you are... Having someone who could understand, someone to tell me that it's _okay_ and that I'm not the only one; it would help. I know it would." He blinked, realizing that he was starting to tear up, "Anyway, what I mean is... I wish I could've been that person to these kids. I wish that it wasn't like this, that no one ever had to feel that way, and I wish that it never got bad enough that there only seems to be one way out."

He played absently with the corners of the pages, looking down again. "It's just... scary," he decided, "Sometimes it kind of feels like... everyone else is giving up, so maybe I should, too. Maybe they're onto something. Maybe it's the right way out, not just the easy way..."

"Kurt." Her soft voice interrupted his train of thought, bringing his ramblings to a halt. She reached out, placing a hand over his, "Killing yourself is _never_ the right way out." There was a pleading tone in her voice, and Kurt felt a bit guilty, knowing he'd put it there. "No matter what anyone tells you, no matter how many times you read about someone else ending their life, suicide is not the best option. Every life matters and you have just as much right to live, to love, and to be safe and happy as anyone else." He nodded slightly, but didn't say anything else for a few minutes, and Emma just hoped that he was processing what she'd just said to him. When Kurt finally looked up to meet her gaze again, she wasn't entirely surprised by the tears falling from his eyes. She was, however, surprised by the question he asked.

"What would you do?" He wiped his eyes, and took a breath, trying to calm himself, before he repeated, "What would you do? If you woke up every single day worrying that it might finally be the day that the bullying goes too far, that maybe you won't actually be alive the next time they toss you into a dumpster... what would you do? Wouldn't you rather have some say in it?" He gave up on trying to brush away his tears now, unable to stop them from reforming, "Wouldn't it be better if you got to choose when? To choose how? You could say all the goodbyes that you need to... you wouldn't need to worry about unfinished business, or about having the wrong people there to watch you in your final moments. "

He knew it was fucked up, and he wasn't even sure he believed in the points that he was making. But that was exactly the problem, because it also meant he wasn't sure that he _didn't_ believe them.

"I don't want to die," he promised, trying to ease the worry from his counsellor's eyes, "But... I'd rather take my own life, than let someone else do it."

"You can't know with certainty that you'll be murdered, Kurt," she quietly pointed out, "There are so many amazing things in life that you'd miss out on if you followed that mentality and killed yourself. There are plenty of gay people who live happily and unharmed, who's to say that you won't be one of them?" She offered him a tissue, continuing, "You can't let fear of the unknown push you into doing something as permanent as committing suicide."

Giving a slight nod, Kurt accepted the tissue, wiping his eyes and then blowing his nose. "I know," he whispered, "I _do_ know that." He looked away, his gaze falling on the clock hanging on the far wall, and his eyes widened – he hadn't heard the bell ring, and he was already about five minutes late for Glee. "Ms. Pillsbury, I'm sorry, but I'm going to be late for Glee," he commented, standing up quickly and dropping the soiled tissue into the trash.

"I'm sure Will would understand," she answered, not entirely comfortable with letting Kurt leave just yet. She really wanted to be sure that he was okay, but she could see the determination in his eyes and she had no right to force him to stay. "I'm always here if you need me," she reminded him, watching as he wiped the last of his tears away. She smiled slightly when he nodded and whispered a 'thank you' before he turned to leave. "Wait," she called, picking the pamphlet up off of the desk and holding it out to him when he turned back around. "Please," she insisted, "Take it. Just in case." Kurt hesitated for a second before reaching out to take it, and she sighed slightly in relief, "Thank you." She smiled warmly, making a playful "shoo"-ing gesture, "Now go sing with your friends."

He cracked a small smile at that, walking to the door and opening it, but he paused when Ms. Pillsbury called his name, "Hmm?"

"You're... not as alone in this school as you think you are_,_" she commented, just barely glancing up at him. He looked like he was about to say something, probably ask her for clarification, but he just shook his head slightly.

"Bye, Ms. Pillsbury," he murmured before heading out into the quickly emptying hall. Returning to his French classroom, he collected his books, shoving them into his bag and then heading towards the choir room. He was trying not to think about what Emma had just said to him, but he couldn't help it. He wanted to know what she meant, _who_ she meant, more specifically.

Hovering outside the door to the choir room, Kurt took one last deep breath, calming himself down before going inside.

"You're late," Will commented, looking over when he heard the door open.

"Sorry." He hesitated, considering making up an excuse, before he settled on telling the truth. "Ms. Pillsbury pulled me from last period," he explained briefly as he took his seat. Will just looked at him for a long moment before nodding and returning his attention to the group as a whole.

"Well, now that you're all here," he started, walking up to the board as he spoke, "Your assignment for this week is to prepare a song that's either empowering, something that represents hope or overcoming hard times..." He paused, writing two words on the board: "hope" and "hopelessness". "Or," he continued, "You can choose a song that represents hopelessness or the struggle itself."

"That's kind of depressing, Mr. Schue," Quinn commented after a moment. Most of the others nodded as she added, "Why give us the second option?"

The teacher simply shrugged, giving the class a small smile, "I'm curious to see who chooses which theme." Really, he was worried about a few students and wanted to figure out if maybe he had reason to be. Not to mention, it was something that sprung to mind every time he heard about yet another suicide...

As if reading his mind, Sam piped up, asking, "Is this because of the influx in publicized teen suicides?" He shifted a bit uncomfortably when his peers turned to stare at him, comprehension dawning on some of their faces.

"Of course!" Rachel exclaimed, shaking her head, "That makes sense."

Nodding, Will confirmed the class' newest suspicion, "That's what inspired the theme, yes." He ran a hand through his hair, giving his students a weak smile before shaking off the worried mood. "Anyway, you can work alone or in groups," he added, "Whoever's ready can perform on Wednesday at lunch, and the rest of you can present on Friday. As for today, I think it's about time we start brainstorming for Sectionals."

Instantly, Rachel shot from her seat and turned to face the rest of the club. "An _excellent_ point, Mr. Schuester!", she commented, "I've been thinking a lot about this, of course – as your lead, it's my duty to focus on such things – and I've decided that we should revise New York and adapt it for an auditorium..."

The rest of the meeting passed fairly quickly, leaving them all a little anxious about the upcoming Sectionals performance. New York had been shot down by most of the club on the basis that it had had next-to-zero effect on the rest of the student population, and Will had forbidden Toxic. He'd taken note of the suggestions that seemed to be more widely agreed upon, though, and told them that he'd work out a tentative set-list by the following Monday.

Despite the stress over being reminded about the competition, Kurt couldn't help being relieved that it had distracted everyone away from asking why he'd been called down to the guidance office. It wasn't until he got home and was able to shut himself in his room for a while that he had the chance to pull out the pamphlet Emma had given him and really examine it. In the end, he programmed the hotline's number into his cell phone and hid the paper away in one of his desk drawers – the last thing he needed to do was have his father, Finn, or Carole freak out on him if they found it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks so much for all of the story alerts, +favourites and reviews :) Hopefully I manage to keep living up to your expectations.**

**This chapter's a bit shorter than I was hoping for, but it's still fairly important. Enjoy!**

* * *

Kurt found himself distracted the whole time he was in class, spending far too much time looking at his classmates and trying to decide who might honestly have confided in Ms. Pillsbury about being gay. He knew it wasn't any of his business, but no one could really blame him for being curious – the idea of having someone he could relate to was really appealing. Maybe that wasn't even what she'd meant – he could have misinterpreted. He didn't really want to believe that, though.

Thanks to his distraction, the first half of the day had passed in a bit of a haze, and it wasn't until the lunch bell rang and he walked out of his classroom that he really snapped out of it. Of course, this was only due to the fact that he was met with a face full of freezing cold slushy. Sighing, he made his way to the washroom and cleaned himself off as best he could before digging a change of clothes out of his bag. He changed, letting his damaged clothing set in cold water for a while in the hopes of preventing stains, before he finally made his way to his locker to drop off his books and get his lunch.

On the way to the cafeteria, he passed the guidance office and paused for a second as he considered whether or not he should go apologize for how quickly he'd left the day before. But Ms. Pillsbury had always been supportive of the Glee club, so he was fairly certain that she'd understood and wasn't upset with him. Besides, the Do-Not-Disturb sign was hanging from the doorknob, clearly meaning that she was already busy talking with someone else.

Curiously, he took a glance through the windows as he walked past, continuing to the cafeteria; Sam Evans was sitting across from Ms. Pillsbury, looking more than a little upset – and that kind of freaked Kurt out a bit. Sam always seemed so collected and put together; it was unnerving to see him looking so bothered. He tried not to think about it, though, shaking it from his head as he joined Mercedes, Finn and Rachel at their usual lunch table. He sighed, muttering something about getting slushied when everyone asked him what had taken him so long.

The rest of the day was, thankfully, uneventful, and Kurt breathed a sigh of relief when classes ended and he met up with Quinn to walk to the gym. They were in for a long and gruelling practise, but he didn't mind – he found that, although exhausted, he tended to feel a bit better after spending so much time moving around and dancing.  
**  
**-x-x-x-

Kurt's desk was off-limits, and Finn knew that, but he was desperate – Kurt wouldn't be home from Cheerio practise for at least two more hours and he really needed to start on his Spanish paper so that he could go out with Rachel later. He just figured that, if he could find Kurt's notes, he might be able to make a better start on the assignment. He hadn't expected to find anything out of the ordinary – honestly, he hadn't even paid much attention to the pamphlet at first, assuming it was just something Ms. Pillsbury had given him on dealing with an ill relative, or maybe on teenage drinking, but when he accidentally moved the papers that were covering the bottom half, he paused. Suicide prevention? Why would she give Kurt something about that?

He frowned, picking it up and examining it for a long moment – he'd never really stopped to think about it before, but the statistics on the pages were startling. Thinking back to when Kurt had arrived late to Glee the previous day, he couldn't help wondering if maybe he needed to be worried. He finally set the pamphlet back down and went back to looking for Kurt's Spanish notes, but he couldn't shake the concerned feeling that had washed over him.

-x-x-x-

Practise had gone smoothly enough – Sue had worked them as hard as ever, but she'd seemed genuinely satisfied with their performance when she finally dismissed them. Not that she'd actually _told_ them she was pleased – but they knew it anyway.

After politely declining Brittany's suggestion that he team up with herself, Santana and Quinn for the Glee assignment, Kurt parted ways with the girls and headed home, completely oblivious to Finn's worries.

-x-x-x-

Upon voicing his concerns to Rachel during their date, Finn had decided that it was his duty to confront Kurt about the situation. His chance arose that night, just before they went to bed.

"Hey, Kurt?" he asked, a hint of hesitance in his voice. Kurt just glanced over at him, raising an eyebrow curiously and "hmm?"-ing softly. "Are you... I mean, uh," he sighed, not really sure if he should just flat-out say it. But not knowing how else to ask, he settled on being blunt, "You're not depressed or anything, are you?" He nervously looked over at his almost-brother, frowning a bit at the way Kurt had briefly frozen.

After collecting himself, Kurt gave a soft laugh and shook his head, "What? No way, Finn." He gave the other teen a reassuring smile, and looked down at the magazine in his hands, "I think you're putting a little too much thought into Mr. Schuester's assignment."

"Maybe," Finn semi-agreed, looking Kurt over for another long moment before looking away, "It's just Rachel said something about gay kids being a lot more likely to get depressed or... whatever, and I just wanted to make sure." He frowned, adding, "Plus, you said you were talking with Ms. Pillsbury yesterday, and your eyes were kind red like you'd been crying..."

Kurt smiled a little sadly, and closed his copy of Vogue, setting it on his bedside table before he spoke up again, "That's sweet of you, Finn." He looked over at him, a truly grateful look in his eyes, and continued, "You don't need to worry, though; yeah, things suck a lot of the time, but I'm okay." Finn just nodded, looking relieved but not entirely convinced, and Kurt feigned a yawn. "I'm about ready to crash," he commented, snuggling down into his bed and reaching up to turn off his lamp, "Goodnight, Finn."

"G'night," Finn said, his gaze still focused on Kurt for a long moment before he turned his own light off and rolled over onto his side, trying to fall asleep.


	3. Chapter 3

Throughout the next day, Finn seemed to be paying more attention to Kurt than he normally did, and Kurt really wouldn't care if he wasn't being so _obvious_ about it. In these kinds of situations, Kurt _hated_ special attention, hated feeling like his every move, comment and expression was being analyzed – overanalyzed, even. He was trying his hardest not to let it get to him, though – he hated showing up to Glee in a foul mood. Thankfully, once the lunch bell rang, Rachel was there, demanding Finn's attention as she explained her last minute tweaks to their duet.

Rolling his eyes, Kurt walked away from the pair, heading to meet Mercedes at her locker. She chatted excitedly about her song choice as they walked to the choir room, and Kurt nodded along, reassuring her that it would be stellar.

"Are you going today?" she asked as they took their seats, "You've been awful quiet about this whole assignment."

Feigning disinterest, Kurt examined his nails as he shrugged, "I just haven't decided on a song yet." That wasn't entirely true, though – he knew exactly what he wanted to sing; he just wasn't sure if he had the courage to go through with it. He knew the easiest thing to do would be to sing some campy, uplifting song – I Am What I Am, perhaps – but he wanted to show a different side; he just wasn't entirely convinced that he was ready for everyone else to see that side.

She raised an eyebrow at that, "Need help?"

"No, no," he reassured, shaking his head, "I've got a playlist that I've been sifting through." He was spared any further questioning when Will called everyone to attention, asking who'd like to present first. Unsurprisingly, Rachel stood up, all but dragging Finn to the front of the room with her.

"We've chosen a song that represents how love can overcome anything," she started, "how it can give you something worth fighting for." She was positively beaming, but Kurt couldn't help rolling his eyes a little – he knew which song they'd be performing and, while it was a favourite of his, it wasn't really something that he'd have chosen for this assignment.

But this was Rachel Berry, after all; she could twist the meaning of any song enough to fit her needs somehow. He wondered if she'd actually made Finn watch Moulin Rouge; he hoped so. He'd tried to make Finn watch it with him on a few occasions, but he supposed Rachel was probably able to find more persuasive methods...

"_I never thought I'd die alone,  
I laughed the loudest, who'd have known_"

Kurt blinked, a bit surprised, as he snapped to attention – hadn't Rachel and Finn just been performing Come What May? He hadn't meant to zone out entirely... He shook his head slightly, and refocused on the front of the room – Sam was singing now, and the song choice surprised Kurt more than a little. He always seemed so... happy, so Kurt had been expecting him to choose a more encouraging song. Then again, after how Sam had looked when he was sitting in Emma's office the day before... Maybe there was a lot more to Sam Evans than he'd ever realized. He pushed those thoughts from his mind, though – who was he to judge, really? – and just listened.

"_I traced the cord back to the wall;  
No wonder it was never plugged in at all.  
I took my time, I hurried up;  
The choice was mine, I didn't think enough.  
I'm too depressed, to go on,  
You'll be sorry when I'm gone_."

It really struck him how _sincere_ Sam sounded on that line – it worried him a little, if he were to be completely honest. At least Sam was talking to someone about it, though. Kurt had never really been one to take advantage of having a guidance counsellor available, but it was comforting to know that the resource was there and that some students were finding it helpful.

"_I never conquered, rarely came,  
16 just held such better days;  
Days when I still felt alive,  
We couldn't wait to get outside.  
The world was wide; too late to try.  
The tour was over, we'd survived.  
I couldn't wait till I got home  
To pass the time in my room alone_."

Their gazes met for a moment, and Kurt couldn't quite repress the shiver that ran through him – something in that look had just screamed 'I understand,' and it was kind of freaking Kurt out a little. Sam's gaze shifted away again, and Kurt was left trying to figure out what the blond was trying to say.

Seemingly out of nowhere, Ms. Pillsbury's voice entered his mind; _you're not as alone in this school as you think you are_. She couldn't possibly have been referring to Sam, could she? Then again, when Sam first arrived at McKinley, Kurt had definitely had his suspicions about the blond's sexuality... But now wasn't the time to be revisiting that possibility.

"_I never thought I'd die alone;  
Another six months I'll be unknown.  
Give all my things to all my friends,  
You'll never step foot in my room again;  
You'll close it off, board it up.  
Remember the time that I spilled the cup  
Of apple juice in the hall?  
Please tell mom this is not her fault_."

Sam's eyes dropped to the ground when the song mentioned 'his' mother, and Kurt got the distinct feeling that something must've hit close enough to home that he couldn't stand to look at anyone in that moment. If Kurt recalled correctly, Sam and his father had moved out on their own that summer, but he was hazy on the specifics – they probably had some impact on why those lines seemed hard for Sam, though.

"_I never conquered, rarely came,  
16 just held such better days;  
Days when I still felt alive,  
We couldn't wait to get outside.  
The world was wide; too late to try.  
The tour was over but we'd survived.  
I couldn't wait till I got home  
To pass the time in my room alone_."

He cast a quick glance towards Quinn, gauging her reaction; she and Sam had bonded quickly and even tried dating for a while, but it had become clear early on that they were better as friends. She looked sad, that much was obvious, but she didn't seem anywhere near as surprised or unsure as the rest of the group. He'd assumed correctly, it seemed – whatever Sam was dealing with, Quinn was, at least partly, aware of it.

"_I never conquered, rarely came,  
Tomorrow holds such better days;  
Days when I could still feel alive,  
When I can't wait to get outside.  
The world is wide; the time goes by.  
The tour is over – I survived,  
And I can't wait till I get home  
To pass the time in my room alone_."

When Kurt returned his attention to Sam, he was surprised to find the blond looking back at him again. He smiled, giving Sam a quick thumbs-up as he finished the song off. It was just a song, and as well as Kurt knew that, he still couldn't help being relieved by the hopeful ending – he really hoped it represented something about how Sam was feeling, that it had been a factor in why Sam had, in fact, chosen this song. He applauded along with everyone else as Sam set the guitar back down and returned to his seat – but not without taking a moment to hug Quinn when she stood up and threw her arms around him.

"That was really, really great, Sam," Will piped up, smiling at his students, "And the song was a great midpoint between the two themes; nice choice." Sam mumbled a quiet 'thanks', avoiding the looks that a few of their peers were still giving him. "So, who's next?" Will asked, looking his students over.

With a bit of encouragement from Kurt, Mercedes stepped up to the front of the room, blowing everyone away with a passionate rendition of Destiny's Child's _Survivor_, and was followed by Puck's unexpected, yet exceptional, performance of Adam Lambert's _Aftermath_ (done acoustically, of course, and justified by some babbled explanation about him being a modern-day Jewish artist). Will dismissed them then, allowing them to have the last part of their lunch break to themselves, and Kurt found himself telling Mercedes to go on ahead without him. She looked at him for a moment before shrugging and heading off with Quinn.

"Hey, Sam?" he called out, catching the blond's attention before he could leave with the others. He shouldered his messenger bag, walking over to where Sam had stopped.

"What's up?" He gave Kurt a genuinely curious look, and Kurt couldn't help smiling a little. Of course, that only resulted in Sam smiling back at him and he had to look away for a moment, lest he start blushing.

Upon collecting himself, he turned his attention back to Sam, meeting his eyes, "I just wanted to say you were great today." He smiled again, brushing off the other teen's 'thank-you', and paused for a moment, knowing it wasn't really his place to say anything. But he _wanted_ to, and knew he'd regret it if he didn't so he finally decided to bite the bullet, "And I wanted to say that if you ever need to talk or anything, I'm around." Sam blinked at him – either surprised or unsure, Kurt couldn't tell – and he flushed a little, "I mean, I know it was just a song for a Glee assignment or whatever, but I just... You sounded pretty convincing," he rambled, his voice and gaze dropping near the end.

Sam's expression briefly lit up with a warm smile at that before he dropped his gaze to the floor as well, looking a little bit embarrassed, "Thanks, Kurt." He seemed to be considering something for a moment but, in the end, he shook his head, looking back up at Kurt, "I might take you up on that sometime."

Kurt nodded, "Good. Well, I mean, not like good that you'd have things to vent about, but li-"

Sam cut him off with a small laugh, "I get it, Kurt," he reassured, "Don't worry about it." He started towards the door, motioning for Kurt to follow, "We should probably go grab lunch with the others."

Nodding at the suggestion, Kurt joined him in the hall and they walked towards the cafeteria together, idly chattering about the other performances until they sat down with the rest of the gleeks, tuning themselves into the conversation that was already in the works.

-x-x-x-

Kurt was just finishing off his nightly routine when he heard his phone vibrating against the dresser and he stood up, crossing the room and picking it up curiously – Mercedes knew better than to text him after 9:30 on a weeknight unless it was of the utmost importance. As it turned out, the name flashing on his screen wasn't Mercedes' – it was Sam's. He opened it immediately, his eyes skimming over the short message as he returned to his vanity table.

"Think u can meet me b4 class 2mrow?" He cringed at the grammar, but didn't bother to comment on it – he could tell what Sam was trying to say, and that was all that _really_ mattered, he supposed.

"Yeah, absolutely. Where?" was what he finally sent back, trying to refrain from flat-out asking 'are you okay?' for fear of it seeming too pushy or presumptuous. He returned to applying his toner as he waited on a reply.

"Good. Theres s/t I think I wanna tell u. Um. Bleachers?"

Kurt stared at the text for a moment, not entirely sure what to think, but he shrugged it off – he'd told Sam that he could confide in him, after all. He smiled to himself at the realization that Sam was actually taking him up on the offer.

"Works for me! I have to go for now, though. Night, Sam xx."

He didn't even notice the 'xx' until after he'd hit send – it was just so reflexive to end a text conversation that way – and he really, _really_ hoped that Sam wouldn't read too much into it. Sighing, he headed to bed, calling out a goodnight to Finn who was just now coming down the stairs.

* * *

**Disclaimer: I do not own the song quoted in this chapter (**_**Adam's Song**_** by Blink 182).**

**Also, I slipped in a tiny bit of personal canon about Sam's homelife; I hope no one minds.**


	4. Chapter 4

**I'm so sorry that this chapter took so long – midterms seriously suck so hard! I hope it turns out to have been worth the wait.**

**I'm still a bit unsure about this one, but I suppose I like it overall, so hopefully you will too. That said, I just wanted to give a quick thank you & shout out to UchidaKarasu for reviewing this chapter and giving me a bit of feedback :)**

**Thank you again for all of the reviews and I promise you that I read and appreciate every single one of them, although I haven't been replying (I have trouble keeping track of who I have/haven't replied to on here – it's just so much easier on LJ). I can't express how happy it makes me every time I get an alert about this story, and I'm so relieved by the support this story has been getting. You all rock so much! **

* * *

Narrowly avoiding a dumpster dive, Kurt headed towards the football field as soon as he arrived at the school; he spotted Sam near the top of the bleachers, talking with Quinn, and made his way up to them. He gave a small wave when Quinn noticed him and she nodded, turning back to Sam for a moment, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder as she made some final comment before standing up and making her way down the bleachers. They exchanged a brief 'good morning' as they passed each other, and Kurt set his bag on the bleacher below him once he reached Sam.

He greeted him brightly with a 'hey!' smiling encouragingly as he sat down next to the blond and asked, "How's it going?"

Sam merely shrugged before turning in so that he was facing the smaller teen; Kurt couldn't help but notice that he looked anxious. His eyes darted away for a moment as if he was deciding whether or not he could successfully bolt away without Kurt catching him. Eventually, his gaze settled on Kurt again and he forced a small smile, "Thanks for showing up."

"Was there any doubt that I would?" he asked, raising an eyebrow – although he wasn't _really_ looking for an answer. "Anyway," he said, dismissing his own question, "You're welcome, I suppose. But you don't really need to thank me," he added with a smile and a shrug of his own.

Sam looked, for a moment, as if he was going to argue that, but decided not to and fell silent instead. The quiet hovered around them for a few minutes, and Kurt waited patiently until Sam finally broke the silence.

"My parents are getting a divorce," he stated, his voice very matter-of-fact and to-the-point, "and it's my fault." His postured dropped a bit as he added, "That's... not really what I meant about having something to tell you, though. It's just..." he trailed off, swallowing hard and turning his gaze away from Kurt.

Kurt just gave him an encouraging smile, keeping his attention on the other teen, "It's okay, Sam. Take your time." He wasn't entirely shocked by the news of the Evans' impending divorce, but he couldn't help being curious about how it was 'Sam's fault' – Kurt figured that his friend had to be overreacting. Or, not overreacting, per se; Kurt understood that it was normal to turn to self-blame when things start to go wrong around you.

"The only reason they're separating..." Sam resumed, refusing to meet Kurt's eyes as he finally forced out the words, "is because I'm gay." He tensed slightly – almost imperceptibly, – unsure of the kind of reaction Kurt was going to have to the news; after a long moment of silence, he finally chanced a look at the brunette again; the mix of emotions on his face was _almost_ comical (although, the lack of genuine surprise was hardly encouraging).

Kurt couldn't quite place the emotions that he felt in that moment. Forget the fact that he had someone he could relate to now, that he _finally_ had real and undeniable proof _sitting right next to him_ that other gay teens _really did exist_; this wasn't about him – he could process those feelings and realizations later. The issue at hand right now was that... Sam was gay?

Sam Evans – gorgeous, sweet, dorky, I-don't-dye-my-hair Samuel Evans was _gay_? He should be glad – and in a way, he supposed he was (okay, so maybe he was _really_ glad, but there wasn't really anything wrong with that, right?) – and he should probably have been surprised but, really, Kurt's more surprised that he'd ever let himself be convinced otherwise. He'd known. He'd known right from the start, and had been made to believe that he was just projecting his wishes onto yet another unattainable straight boy.

Mostly, though, he was just... confused. Why was Sam's sexuality such a deciding factor in his parents' divorce? And why had Sam finally worked up the courage to tell him now?

After a long moment, he was able to shake himself out of his own mind and he returned his attention to Sam. "Putting everything that I _really_ want to ask and tell you aside for a second, how exactly does this make it your fault that your parents are splitting up?" he asked, genuinely curious about Sam's answer. He wasn't sure he knew how to deal with the potential situation of Sam hating himself enough to be pinning the bad things in his life to the fact that he wasn't straight, but he knew that he needed to ask. Besides, Sam didn't seem too much like the self-loathing type.

Sam raised an eyebrow at the first half of Kurt's response, but decided not to call him out on it just then. Still, he... wasn't sure what to think of the other teen's reaction. Obviously, he hadn't expected Kurt to be disgusted or offended, but he'd expected _something_. He'd just told Kurt that he wasn't the only gay kid in town – that he wasn't alone anymore – and Kurt seemed to be breezing right over that part. Then again, maybe Kurt was just being considerate of the fact that it was Sam who'd wanted someone to talk to. Or maybe he just didn't know how to deal with the revelation. He shook his head slightly, tuning himself back into the conversation.

"It's... kind of a long story," he admitted, his gaze falling to the ground again. "I don't mind telling you, it's just class starts kind of soon, so maybe some other time?" he didn't look up, but Kurt could tell by the tone of his voice that he was being sincere. Pushing his bangs away from his eyes, he sighed, "Let's just say... my mom hasn't really been my biggest fan since she found out." He closed his eyes, thinking back on how exactly his mother had found out... and everything that had happened afterwards. Yeah, she wasn't anywhere near being his biggest fan anymore.

Kurt frowned at that, and reached out to set his hand on the blond's shoulder; not knowing what else to say, he finally settled on, "I am... so sorry, Sam." Despite all of the struggles that Kurt seemed to have with his father, he knew without a doubt that his father loved and supported him – and he knew that his mother would have been the same way, if not _more_ supportive than his dad, had she still been alive. Moments like this reminded him of just how lucky he was. He simply nodded in response to Sam's 'thanks,' unable to make himself say anything when Sam turned toward him with that heartbroken look in his eyes.

"Do you ever think your family might be better off without you?" Sam asked, his eyes seeming to search Kurt's for something as he waited on a response. He really hoped that it wasn't too intrusive of him to be asking that, and the sadness that flickered in Kurt's eyes made him regret asking. He was about to tell him that he didn't have to answer, that it wasn't any of his business, but Kurt nodded, opening his mouth to speak, and Sam lost his nerve. The answering 'yes' was quiet, but Sam heard it clearly and his heart dropped a little – it was silly of him to have thought that Kurt was completely unshakeable. Of course he dealt with the same kinds of thoughts.

Seeing the way Sam's shoulders fell, Kurt tried to amend his statement, not wanting to completely discourage the other teen. "I mean, it's not something I feel all the time, you know?" he reasoned, an almost pleading look in his eyes as he met Sam's gaze again, "It's more like, well, sometimes something happens and I just... know that if I wasn't here, or if I wasn't the way that I am, it wouldn't have." He could still see the look on his father's face when he'd told Kurt about that first hateful phone call that he'd received the year before, and no matter what anyone said, Kurt knew that it was his fault. That memory would always serve as a reminder that he only made his dad's life harder.

Sam nodded only slightly, looking away again as they slipped back into another stretch of silence; a minute or two passed before Sam finally broke it. "They're still in love, you know," he explained, "That's why I say it's my fault. If I wasn't... here, or if I wasn't so fucking _gay_ they wouldn't be splitting up." He didn't notice how Kurt flinched at the way he'd said 'gay' – like it was something dirty and offensive, – nor did he notice that his hands had balled into fists until Kurt had covered one of them with his own. He forced himself to relax and glanced down at their hands, smiling slightly until he remembered where they were. As he pulled his hand away, he shot Kurt an apologetic look that was answered with a sad and understanding smile.

Kurt hated to admit it, but it broke his heart to hear Sam talk like that – of all the guys he knew, Sam was probably the person he'd thought was the least likely to use a tone like that. Oddly enough, it hurt worse knowing that Sam was directing it at himself and not intentionally adding to the list of insults that Kurt faced so regularly.

"It isn't your fault," he whispered when Sam pulled away – sure, he didn't know the entire situation, but he knew it wasn't fair for Sam to put that kind of blame on himself. "Your mother is the one choosing to push her son away over something that _can't_ be changed," he continued, hoping that he wasn't overstepping any boundaries by saying that.

"I wish I _could_ change it," he muttered darkly, regret filling his eyes immediately when he saw the slight tremble of Kurt's bottom lip before the smaller teen had looked away. "Kurt, no," he pleaded, gently grabbing onto Kurt's arm to turn him around, only to have his hand carefully brushed off, "I didn't mean... There is _nothing_ wrong with being gay, Kurt; I _know_ that. I just... I want my family back, I wanna see my dad smile again, I wanna... hug my mother again." He sighed, frustrated with himself for having offended the one person who could even remotely relate to him on this level. "I'm not ashamed of who I am," he mumbled, still looking at Kurt, "I'm just angry that it's tearing my world apart."

Kurt was still refusing to look at Sam, but he was listening and he could hear the sincerity in the other teen's voice and it helped a little bit. "You're just a kid, Sam," he pointed out after a moment, "Which means that the only thing you're really responsible for is being yourself, and, as a parent, it's your mom's job to love and support you, no matter what." He tried as hard as he could to disguise the emotions in his voice – Sam didn't need to know how painful the memory he was drawing on was, didn't need to know that Kurt was simply paraphrasing words that he'd once needed to hear as well. Turning back around, he made sure to look Sam in the eyes as he concluded, "If she can't do that... then that's her fault, not yours."

The first-period warning bell chose that moment to go off, and Kurt sighed to himself when, as if on cue, Mercedes popped up near the bottom of the bleachers. "We should probably get to class," he mused after a moment before slowly standing up. He glanced back down at Sam as he picked up his bag, smiling as he added, "Thank you for trusting me, Sam. I swear I won't tell anyone."

Shaking his head slightly, Sam lifted his hand to shade his eyes from the sun as he looked at Kurt, "Naw, man. Thank _you_, I really appreciate you listening to me bitch and whine." He chuckled slightly, giving a self-depreciating smile, "And I really am sorry if I offended you or anything, I wasn't trying to."

Kurt just shrugged at that and mumbled a reassuring 'I know,' before rolling his eyes when Mercedes hollered up at him that they were going to be late if he didn't get his act in gear. "Women are _so_ demanding," he joked, grinning a bit as he started to turn away, "See you around, Sam."

"Kurt."

Reaching out, Sam gently caught the other teen by his wrist, holding on firmly just in case Kurt tried to keep walking, "Do you think..." He paused, finally letting go once he was sure that the other boy wasn't going anywhere, "Could we talk more after school?"

"You have football today," he reminded, his smile softening at Sam's disappointed look, "And we've got Glee tomorrow, but, Saturday?" he suggested, adjusting his messenger bag over his shoulder.

Sam's entire demeanour seemed to brighten at that, a genuine smile spreading across his face as he nodded, "Saturday sounds great." He finally stood up as well, grabbing his gym bag and slinging it over his shoulder. "Catch you later, then," he said, flashing Kurt a heart-melting smile before descending the bleachers and heading into the school.

Grinning to himself, Kurt made his way down to where Mercedes was waiting for him; avoiding her curious gaze, he linked arms with her and they walked towards the school together. He shook off all of her questions until she finally gave up and moved on to another topic and, honestly, after the morning's revelations, he was grateful for the light, more-or-less meaningless conversation. He couldn't help being a bit disappointed when they had to part ways for first period.

Once he was alone, without any distractions, he couldn't stop his mind from going over his conversation with Sam – and it was then that it really hit him. Sam was gay. For once in his life, he had a crush that might actually be attainable. Sure, Sam hadn't specifically mentioned having feelings for him or anything like that, but he _had_ trusted Kurt enough to tell him such a big secret. For the moment, that was enough for Kurt – and even knowing that it didn't ensure him a relationship, he couldn't stop smiling at the fact that there was finally a chance that he wouldn't have to spend his _entire_ high school career alone.

Despite knowing that he shouldn't, Kurt let himself spent the rest of the day revisiting most of his original feelings towards Sam. He knew that doing anything to risk their friendship would be a bad move, but he was allowed to dream, right? Besides, whether Sam returned his feelings or not, he wasn't going to make them same mistakes he'd made around Finn – he'd learned from that whole scenario, he really had. And that was why he was trying his best not to do something stupid like get his hopes up about Saturday; as happy as he was about this turn of events, he knew that he needed to look after his heart this time. He was, after all, still piecing it back together from when Finn had broken it.

The bubble of happiness that he'd spent the day in burst around him as he left last period and pulled to a silent stop in front of his locker, his face paling slightly as his gaze fell on the black marker that had been scrawled across it. It was hardly the first time he'd had his locker defaced with a word like 'fag' – but did it really have to happen right then? Was the universe really so against him that it couldn't allow him to have just _one_ good day? He did his best to quickly collect himself, and stepped closer to his locker before reaching out to tear down the paper that had been taped underneath the slur. The smart thing to do would've been to throw it out without sparing it a second glance, but he opened it anyway, revealing a newspaper article about suicide amongst gay youth. Written over it in the same ink that had damaged his locker were the words "take a hint, fairy," and Kurt had to fight a little harder than he usually did to stop the tears that were threatening to fall from his eyes.

He crushed the note in his hand, shoving it into his bag and wiping his eyes on the back of his hand when he heard someone call his name, before he distracted himself with opening his locker. He was still unloading his textbooks when Finn and Sam reached him; he couldn't help rolling his eyes when he realized that they were arguing over which football teams they'd rather play for someday.

"You two might want to work at redeeming the school's team before you set your sights on the big leagues," he pointed out, closing his locker with a bit more force than he'd meant to. Distracted by the note, the writing on his locker seemed so mundane that it had slipped his mind, so he raised an eyebrow in surprise at the anger that flickered across the other boys' features. He was about to call them out on overreacting to his comment, but Finn's voice cut him off.

"What the _Hell_?" he demanded, his gaze passing from the locker to Kurt's face and then back again. "I swear to God, if you know who did it, I'll punch their lights out," he offered, the anger still apparent in his eyes; it softened a little at the sound of Kurt's tired sigh.

Keeping his gaze determinedly away from Sam, Kurt waved his hand dismissively, "It's fine, Finn." When the other teen just looked at him skeptically, he added, "Really, don't worry about it." He turned away, heading towards the doors, "Now get going, or you'll be late for practise and have to run extra laps."

He hadn't even made it to his car before he felt his phone buzzing in his pocket and he pulled it out, smiling slightly when he saw Sam's name on the screen. His smile only widened when he opened the text to find a message reading, "U sure ur ok?" He was so touched by Sam's need to check in on him that he couldn't even bring himself to be too bothered by the other teen's texting habits – but someday, he'd teach Sam how to text like an intelligent being. Really. He would.

He paused at his car, typing out a quick response of, "I'm sure, Sam. Promise," and hitting send, before he unlocked the car and got inside. It wasn't entirely untrue – he really didn't care that much about the locker (he'd had worse spray painted on it before), and as far as Finn and Sam were concerned, that was all that had happened.

That was how Kurt justified his promise, anyway.


	5. Chapter 5

**This chapter is... really long (I couldn't stop myself from dubbing it 'the chapter that never ends' as I was writing it), so for that I apologize. There's a lot going on, but it's all fairly important so I hope the word count doesn't deter anyone.**

* * *

"Hey, Hummel, you get that note we left you?"

Kurt paled slightly at the question, his posture stiffening as he tried to ignore the jocks who were addressing him. He couldn't say that he was surprised by the confirmation of who exactly had left the note – but it still hurt to specifically know who wanted to see him dead. He closed his locker and turned to face the group of teenagers who were still loitering around, waiting for his response. "Really, Dave?" he asked, addressing the speaker, "Does it make you feel good exploiting the losses of those family's just to further your ignorance?"

Dave scoffed at that, taking a step closer to Kurt who tried his hardest not to recoil, "Losses? Pretty sure they were doing their families' a favour. You should learn from 'em," he spat, smirking when the other jocks nodded and murmured their agreement.

"The depth of your inhumanity astounds me more every day," Kurt huffed, rolling his eyes before attempting to walk away from the group only to have Dave shove him back against the lockers. Wincing, he swallowed down the wave of panic that coursed through him and he let his gaze dart around the hall; he nearly sighed with relief when he saw Finn, Rachel, Puck, Santana, and Mike approaching.

One of the other jocks – Kurt wasn't sure of his name, nor could he be bothered to want to learn it – stepped forward, crossing his arms and grinning as he stated, "My dad's got a gun you can borrow, y'know, whenever you decide to blow your brains out." His grin turned into a self-satisfied smirk at the laughter that came from his teammates.

Kurt blanched, his eyes wide with shock, and he barely registered Santana's indignant, 'what the _Hell_?' His gaze hardened as he finally regained himself and he held up his hand, counting off on his fingers, "I would never '_blow my brains out_', as you so eloquently put it, because, one, do you have any idea how messy that would be? Two, I'd rather not risk surviving only to be bed-ridden or brain-damaged for the rest of my life, and three," he glared, crossing his arms, "I wouldn't need to borrow a gun from the likes of _you_ if I was going to do it." Everyone in the vicinity seemed to be staring at him, and he sighed, adjusting his messenger bag over his shoulder and pushing past the stunned jocks. He'd just walked past the nearby gleeks when Dave's voice stopped him in his tracks.

"So don't use a gun then – hang yourself, jump off a roof, slit your damn wrists – I don't fucking care; just get _gone_ you fucking homo."

Feeling a little like he'd just been slapped in the face, Kurt swallowed hard, turning and looking into his tormentor's eyes – eyes that were completely void of mockery or compassion. The honesty of the statement hit him harder than any punch ever could and he held up a hand when Puck and Finn both made to lunge at Dave. "Finn, Noah, don't," he snapped, his gaze still fixed on Dave's as he smiled coldly and stated, quite indifferently, "Well, _David_, I hope you rot in your own guilt when I do."

If. He'd meant to say _if_, but he could hardly back out now. Instead, he simply turned and walked away, completely ignoring Rachel's gasp and everyone else's shocked faces. Nor did he acknowledge the scuffle that broke out between Finn, Puck, Mike and the other jocks once he'd rounded the corner – he was far too busy freaking out over the statement he'd just made. Kurt could easily, and often willingly, admit to being a drama queen, but that seemed excessive even for him; on the other hand, could anyone really blame him for snapping like that? It seemed perfectly acceptable, given the circumstances.

So, why, if he thought that he hadn't _really_ said anything wrong, did he find himself bursting into the guidance office, not faltering until he realized that he'd walked in on Will and Emma talking with each other? He came to a halt before backing up slightly, "I... Um, sorry..."

His teacher and counsellor had both turned to look at him when he walked in, their conversation dying out as they both looked him over with concerned eyes. Realizing that Kurt looked like he was about to bolt, Will jumped into action, reassuring Kurt that it was fine before making his exit.

"Kurt?" Emma addressed him, her voice gentle and unsure as she motioned towards the seat across from her, "Are you alright?"

He didn't answered, he just stayed where he was for a long moment, dropping his gaze to the ground and letting his bangs fall across his face as a few tears broke through his defences. Once they started, it was hard for him to stop – but he took comfort in the fact that he was, at least, being quiet about it. He barely registered it as Emma stood up and walked over to him, hesitantly reaching out and guiding him to a chair and getting him to sit down. He simply shook his head when she tried to ask him what was wrong, and after a few more minutes he wiped his eyes and opened his bag. Retrieving the note from the previous afternoon, he set it down in front of her without saying a word.

Emma's breath caught in her throat when she looked down at the article. She read and re-read the writing before finally looking back at Kurt, her eyes filled with a mix of shock and pain. She racked her brain, but came up short – what do you say in response to something like that? Shouldn't she be a bit more prepared for this situation?

The silence stretched on for another moment or two before Kurt cleared his throat, keeping his gaze fixed on the ground as he explained, "I found that on my locker yesterday. After class." He took a shuddering breath before continuing, "And just now... a group of jocks owned up to leaving it, then proceeded to verbalize their sentiments on the topic." Wrapping his arms around himself, Kurt let out a humourless laugh that sounded more like a choked sob as he added, "One of them offered to let me use his dad's gun."

Emma could feel the tears stinging at her eyes and she did her best to blink them away – when did teenagers get so _cruel_? "Oh, Kurt..." She watched him sadly, relieved that he'd come to her but upset that he'd been given a reason to. She opened her mouth to speak again but promptly closed it when Kurt looked up to meet her gaze.

"I tried to play it off but they just... wouldn't shut up and Da- one of them went off at me, saying he didn't care how I did it as long as I _did_ and I... I snapped and practically said I was going to." The forlorn look in his eyes broke her heart – and it only broke more when the confusion clouded over them and he whimpered, "Why would I say that?"

"People... say things that they don't really mean when they're upset, Kurt," she started, praying that that was the case here, "Sometimes we lash out with the hopes of hurting someone the same way they hurt us, or in the hopes of getting a message across." Sighing sadly, she continued, "I can only imagine how you were feeling to hear them telling you those things, Kurt – I know you pride yourself on being strong, but anyone would crack under those circumstances... Would I be wrong in assuming you wanted to make them reconsider their comments?" Kurt gave a stiff nod and she brushed her bangs away from her eyes, "People don't always realize the full consequences of their actions and words, and it's normal to want to make them think twice about how deeply their taunts wounded you. Can I also assume that you were lashing out and telling them what they wanted to hear in the hopes that they would realize it wasn't what they really wanted?"

Again, Kurt nodded, looking down at his hands as he argued, "But it was so... easy to say." He bit his lip for a long moment before asking, "How do I know I didn't mean it?"

Frowning, Emma rested her elbows on her desk and leaned in a bit, her chin resting against her folded hands. She thought back to when they'd spoken on Monday, recalling how Kurt had been so insistent that he'd keep going no matter what life through at him or how upset he got; she hated that his tormentors had so thoroughly shaken his mental state. "Well," she started, her tone cautious, "How do you feel now that you're out of the situation?"

"Embarrassed," he replied immediately, before adding, "Stupid, angry that I let them get to me... and a little worthless," he admitted weakly.

Emma nodded as he spoke, her eyes saddening as he continued. "You're far from worthless," she assured him, giving the teen an encouraging smile, "and you shouldn't be angry with yourself – those types of comments hurt, and you're only human, Kurt." He nodded slightly, but she wasn't sure he actually agreed with her. "I can understand why you feel embarrassed, though – losing your grip in front of anyone is hard, but it's even worse when it happens in front of people you can't trust," she continued, giving him a sympathetic look, "And you don't have anything to feel stupid about – is that for letting them get to you, or for the actual comment?"

Kurt seemed to think about that for a long moment before he softly answered, "Both." He elaborated after a pause, stumbling over the words a bit as he got himself worked up, "I just... Finn and some of the others were there, and now that's all they're going to think about when they see me and he already thinks I'm depressed or something and I just don't want everyone to be walking on eggshells around me." He'd hated how his father had treated him like he was breakable when he was first diagnosed as depressed all those years ago – he couldn't bear for all of his friends to treat him that way; it would just be too much. Frowning, he added, "I'm _fine_, but no one's going to believe me after I said _that_. Especially not after I said that."

Emma couldn't help smiling at the last bit of his tirade, and she latched onto one comment – although, she knew that Kurt's definition of 'fine' was unlikely the same as her own. She eyed Kurt curiously as she asked, "But you _are_ fine?" When Kurt only nodded, she pressed on, "So you're fine... but still afraid that you may have meant what you said about killing yourself?"

He flinched a little at how direct her comment was and nodded again, looking a bit hesitant, "I... guess so, yeah. Fine is so... so subjective. If I hadn't come here – if it had been the end of the day – how am I supposed to know that I wouldn't have gone home and... and..." He shook his head, unable to actually say it, and gave the counsellor a hopeless look.

"Well, you _are_ still here despite not speaking with anyone directly after finding that note," she pointed out. "And I think that your choice to come here is a really good sign that you didn't mean it," she reasoned, watching him carefully, "I also think that how much the idea of meaning it scares you is another hopeful sign." He gave a non-committal nod, more to verify that he was still listening than to agree and she took it as a sign to continue, "I think you're hurt – I think that all of the taunting and cruelty that you get is wearing you down – but I don't think you want to die, Kurt. Even now, I can see the fight in your eyes – the drive to keep going." She meant every word that she was saying, too – despite the pain and confusion that were clouding his eyes right now they still held that steely determination that was distinctly Kurt.

After a pause, she continued, "Have you considered that, perhaps, your subconscious had you making a plea for help when you said it?" Her eyebrow rose slightly as she fixed him with a genuinely curious gaze, "You said that some of your friends were there, right?" When Kurt nodded his confirmation, she asked, "Do you think it might have been your way of telling them that you're hurting?"

A plea for help? Kurt considered it for a long moment, despite his wishes to dismiss it; it made him sound like some kind of attention whore, but maybe Ms. Pillsbury had a point. After all, the song he'd been planning to sing that afternoon in Glee Club was bound to tip everyone off about how completely not okay he was, and hadn't that been the point? Then again, if he'd been counting on getting everyone's attention with that, then why had he felt the need for his little outburst earlier that morning?

He could guess why, though; if he'd tipped anyone off with his song choice, he could've easily backed out and used the excuse of wanting to pick a fitting song for their theme. But flat-out telling a hallway of student's that he was planning to kill himself eventually, well, that wasn't really something he could explain away. Despite that flaw, he still intended to try explaining it away.

"I... guess that's possible," he finally agreed, his voice soft and unsure as he continued, "Except, if I don't want to be treated like glass, why would I have been so keen on everyone seeing me break like that?"

If Emma answered him, he didn't hear it. It wasn't that he wanted to be rude, he just couldn't get out of his own head right then. He looked down at his hands, tracing his fingers over the lines of his palms as he reflected on the connotations of his behaviour.

Did he want help – more importantly, did he _need_ help? Was that why he'd programmed that hotline into his phone, why he'd had his thumb hovering over the dial button for nearly an hour once he'd gotten home from school the day before? Is that why he was there now, sitting in front of his guidance counsellor instead of ignoring it all and going to class like he was expected to?

He let out a shaky sigh and dropped his head into his hands as he admitted, "I just want it to feel manageable again."

If there was one thing that Kurt hated more than anything else, more than bad fashion, or greasy hair or ignorant, bigoted jocks, it was the feeling of not being in control – and he'd been feeling that way a lot lately. It had shaken him to his core when his father had gone into that coma and he was still struggling to pull everything back together tightly enough for it to stay in place.

The teasing and bullying that he'd endured for so long were things that he'd always been able to manage, but with the sudden and overwhelming stress of taking care of his father – more importantly, the trauma of almost _losing_ him – it was all becoming too much for Kurt to handle on his own. It probably didn't help that every time he turned around, some news outlet was talking about the current suicide crisis – they might as well be putting ideas into his head. He looked up when he heard his name, and wondered idly how many times she'd called out to him.

Once Emma was sure that Kurt was with her again, she decided that it was time to ask the question that she'd been burning to ask for a while now. Picking up the note, she set it down in front of Kurt, "You said the kids who confronted you today where the ones who left this." She paused, taking in the shift of Kurt's features as he realized what she was getting at – it surprised her to see that he looked... defensive. "Who were they?" she finally asked, her voice dropping to a hushed whisper. When Kurt shook his head, she ran her fingers over the writing and added, "_Please_, Kurt – you don't need to protect whoever's doing this to you."

Kurt sighed, and it was a tired, defeated sound that seemed to hover in the quiet of the office for a moment. Despite trying to force his gaze to stay elsewhere, it kept finding its way back to the paper in front of him, and, giving in, he continued to stare at it as he finally spoke up. "It won't make any difference," he reasoned, his clinical and detached tone instantly making Emma uncomfortable with concern, "But I suppose there's no point in not telling you – you'll likely just run along to Finn and ask him about it, and you and Finn discussing my mental state is hardly something that I need right now." He paused, reaching up to brush his bangs away from his face before continuing, "To be completely truthful, I don't know all of their names, I'm not exactly the type of kid who ends up on a first name basis with the jocks – actually, I'm not sure they even realize that I _have_ a first name," he added, smirking bitterly. He gestured towards the note, finally tearing his gaze away from it and focusing on the wall instead, "But I do know that the only one who admitted to leaving that on my locker was Dave Karofsky." He paused for a moment before stating, "Oh, and if it makes you feel any better, they've taken to writing slurs on my locker again, so you could probably get after them for defacing school property, seeing as I'm not entirely sure that leaving a piece of paper on my locker is going to be considered 'breaking school rules'."

"A note like this is not only harassment, but it's also barely a stage away from a death threat," she pointed out, fixing him with a serious look, "It merits both concern and administrative action, so don't think that they're just going to walk away from this without any consequences." Kurt didn't look even slightly convinced, but she couldn't really blame him – she knew that the majority of the bullying at McKinley went unreported, and that the cases that did find their way onto the principal's desk were often poorly handled. Still, she knew that she had to at least _try_ - Kurt deserved at least that much.

It wasn't that Kurt didn't know that she meant well, it was just that he knew it wasn't going to make things any better – if anything, the attention was bound to make things worse. People like Dave Karofsky thrived on getting under people's skin, on knowing that they were having an effect on their victims – and Kurt hated to give them that kind of satisfaction whenever he could avoid it. He'd already shown enough vulnerability that day – it would only encourage them more when they found out that he'd reported the conflict to a staff member. Sighing to himself, Kurt stood up and reached out with the intent of taking the note only to let his empty hand fall back to his side; even he wasn't masochistic enough to think that keeping it would be a good idea.

"I should go, so you can file an incident report, or whatever it is that you need to do," he muttered as he picked his bag back up and put it over his shoulder.

Emma watched quietly as Kurt built his defences back up, and reached for a slip of paper once she was sure he wouldn't agree to stay any longer. She carefully wrote out a note to excuse him from being marked late and then handed it to him. "Thank you for coming here today, Kurt," she said, smiling warmly at him as she met his eyes, "I'm so glad you understand that my door is always opened for you."

Kurt took the note, folding it up so that his hands had something to do, and he nodded as he returned her smile with a brief one of his own. "Thanks for listening, Ms. Pillsbury," he replied quietly before turning to leave and heading towards his Spanish classroom.

He took a calming breath and straightened his shoulders before he walked into the room, and he tried not to falter in his confidence when the class seemed to shift their attention to him. Ignoring their looks as best he could, Kurt walked up to Mr. Schuester and handed him the note before taking his seat and pulling out his books. From what he could see, he knew that the looks he was getting weren't 'oh, you're late for class!' looks and he found himself mentally cursing the speed of the WMHS rumour-mill. Refusing to acknowledge both his teacher's and Quinn's worried looks, he distracted himself with pulling out a pen and flipping to a new page in his notebook.

The class seemed to speed by and, caught off-guard, Kurt jumped slightly when he heard the bell. He focused on shoving his belongings back into his bag quickly, and was already walking towards the door as he slung the bag over his shoulder. He let out a sigh of relief once he'd slipped out of the room without giving his teacher the opportunity to pull him aside. Of course, he couldn't avoid _everyone_, and it was only a matter of minutes before Mercedes found him; he hesitated at first, but finally relaxed into her embrace for a long moment before he pulled away and forced a smile.

"I guess you heard about what happened," he mused, a conversational tone to his voice, as they resumed walking towards their Chemistry classroom. "Rachel no doubt exaggerated the whole thing," he added, rolling his eyes, "I'm sorry if she worried you, 'Cedes." The girl's eyes narrowed a bit as she looked at him, clearly not buying his attempts to downplay the situation, and he sighed in defeat. "It really isn't a big deal," he protested, "I'm an idiot for letting them get to me, y'know? I didn't really mean it – it wasn't like, a threat or something, okay? I said it because I was mad, that's it." He nearly sighed in relief again when she nodded, accepting his reasoning.

Mercedes slipped into her seat and Kurt joined her, turning away to dig his notebook back out of his bag. He bit down on his bottom lip, glad that she couldn't see his face, when she asked, "If there was something wrong, you'd tell me, right?"

Forcing a smile, Kurt turned back to her and took her hand into his own. "I'm _fine_, Mercedes," he insisted, his voice sounding a hundred times more confident than he felt. He held her searching gaze for a long moment, and tried his best to hide his relieved smile when she finally nodded and turned her attention to the front of the class.

By the time Glee rolled around that afternoon, Kurt was sick and tired of reassuring everyone that he was fine, as well as completely pleased with himself for not snapping at any of his worried peers. On top of that, he was also anxious about his looming Glee performance – a feeling that he wasn't entirely accustomed to. It wasn't that he didn't think he could do well with his song – in fact, he was sure that he'd sound amazing – his worries were more-so centered on his song choice. The song that he'd prepared ran the risk of completely invalidating all of the reassurances he'd given out that day. On the other hand, though, Kurt just wasn't sure he had it in him to stand in front of everyone and sing something uplifting – and that was his dilemma; give them a subpar, unconvincing performance or blow them away while deepening their concerns.

He glanced down at his watch, sighing to himself when he saw that he only had two minutes until Glee was supposed to begin. Praying that he'd be able to put his performance off until the end of the meeting, he straightened his shoulders and left the bathroom, walking towards the choir room. He stepped inside, immediately registering that he was the last to arrive, and quickly crossed the room to take his seat next to Mercedes.

Luckily for Kurt, Artie wheeled himself to the front of the room as soon as Will asked for the first volunteer. He opened the meeting with an emotional rendition of the Flaming Lips' _Mr. Ambulance Driver_ which was met with a few tears, a lot of applause and a hug from Brittany when she, Santana and Quinn moved to replace him at the front of the room. Their performance of _Dear Prudence_ easily managed to get everyone back in good spirits – even Kurt couldn't help smiling when Brittany grabbed him by the hands, pulled him up, and spun around with him a few times.

By the time Mike and Tina had finished with their duet of Good Charlotte's Hold On, Kurt still wasn't sure what he was going to do. A part of him hoped that if he stayed quiet enough, no one would notice that he hadn't performed yet – but he knew there was no chance of that; that knowledge was confirmed when Tina and Mike returned to their seats and everyone turned to look at him expectantly. Kurt hesitated for a long moment, not looking at anyone as he fought with himself over what to do. After what felt, to him, like hours, he finally stood up and made his way to the front of the room. He paused at the piano, resting a hand against it hesitantly before turning to look at Will.

"May I?" he asked, more than just a hint of nerves in his voice. He gave a small smile, walking over to the bench and settling in once Will had nodded and told him to 'go for it.' After taking a moment to collect himself and his thoughts, he positioned his fingers above the correct keys and began to play.

"_It's four a.m. again;  
Father, forgive me this sin.  
Uncomfortable in this life, yeah,  
I can't put down this knife, yeah_."

Kurt tried really hard not to pay attention, but it didn't matter – he still heard the collective gasp. He knew that songs like this weren't what the club was used to hearing from him, and he also knew that, after what had happened that morning, it was a badly-timed performance, but he hadn't been able to talk himself into switching songs. Despite not wanting anyone to worry, he felt like it would be too dishonest of him to sing anything else – and he knew that his friends all deserved better than that.

"_I'm carving words in my arms, baby;  
These scars are part of my charm, maybe.  
I need the touch of a hand;  
This isn't what I had planned_."

He looked down at the keys, not really needing to but not wanting to look up at his peers; he found that it was easier to pretend they weren't there if he couldn't actually see them. Not that he could really bring himself to completely ignore their presence. This wasn't the first time that he'd performed for the club whilst in a bad place, but the amount of _self_ that he was putting into this song made it harder. This one wasn't for Finn, or for his father, or for anybody else – this performance was purely _Kurt_, and he couldn't help but find it overwhelming.

"_I need relief from this life,  
I wanna slip away into the night.  
Don't wanna see the sun again,  
But can't get swallowed up by this tragic whirlwind  
I wish the ocean was warm;  
I feel like drowning_."

Kurt had spent a lot of time telling himself that he wouldn't be another statistic, another article about how homophobia had won – that he wouldn't join the whirlwind of tragedy that seemed to have everyone on edge. However, his conversation with Emma that morning had shaken him more than he cared to admit and he could only hope that no one had noticed the quiver in his voice when he'd sung the chorus.

"_I'm losing my faith in me;  
I can't remember the last time I felt free  
From voices inside my head.  
When I taste liberation, they just feed me fear instead_."

Not that Kurt was by any means crazy, but those lines tended to hit close to home for him. Some days the worst insults were the ones coming from himself – that little voice in his head that loved to remind him that he was _different_. As much as he hated it, those thoughts had been springing up more and more lately.

He closed his eyes as he hit the next stanza.

"_You say I'm out of control;  
At least I still have a soul.  
No, I don't need your advice,  
Some compassion would be nice_."

As he sang, he couldn't help thinking back to all of the times that he'd been told to try harder to fit in, to stop standing out so much – he knew the statement was well-intended (at least, coming from friends it was), but he didn't care. He was holding onto himself with everything he had – he wasn't going to change for anyone; he just wished that people would be more understanding and accepting of that decision.

"_I need relief from this life,  
I wanna slip away into the night.  
Don't wanna see the sun again,  
But can't get swallowed up by this tragic whirlwind.  
I wish the ocean was warm;  
I feel like drowning_."

He supposed that if he ever _did_ decide to kill himself; he might do it that way – it seemed a lot less daunting than the idea of hanging himself or slitting his wrists, and honestly, he'd imagined what it might be like on more than one occasion. He had to admit that the peaceful oblivion people so often refer to seemed welcoming, but then he'd think about his father, about how alone he'd be if Kurt were dead, and the ideas would temporarily fade back to the very edges of his mind.

"_I can't take any more of your pills;  
They hold my head up,  
But still it feels so wrong.  
I can't believe the price that I've paid  
For this chemically-induced,  
Perceivably ideal,  
Take-it-with-a-glass-of-water day_."

If he believed in God, Kurt would've cast up a silent prayer, pleading for his friends not to read too much into that verse. The last thing he wanted was for anyone to figure out that he was taking anti-depressants – he hadn't even trusted Mercedes with that information, nor did he plan to. Hell, Finn _lived_ with him and still had no idea – it just wasn't a topic that ever came up, and Kurt always kept the pill canister well-hidden.

"_I need relief from this life,  
I wanna slip away into the night.  
Don't wanna see the sun again,  
But can't get swallowed up by this tragic whirlwind.  
I wish the ocean was warm;  
I feel like drowning_."

It wasn't until he'd finished playing that he noticed the few tears that had made their way down his cheeks; he flushed, quickly wiping them away before letting his shaking hands drop into his lap. He vaguely registered the applause of his peers and gave them a quiet 'thanks' as he returned to his seat, flashing Mercedes a hopefully reassuring smile when she looked over at him.

Will cleared his throat, returning to the center of the room, "Kurt, that was... wow. Just, wow." He smiled, his worried gaze lingering on Kurt for another moment before he looked at the rest of the group, "I'm actually really impressed with all of you right now; I think this has been one of your best weeks to date." He nodded towards the female Cheerios, "I'm considering working Dear Prudence into Sectionals – a Beatles medley, even," he suggested, thinking back to Kurt's rendition of I Want to Hold Your Hand. "You've really proven, once again, why you're all here," he added.

Will dismissed them about half an hour later and Kurt practically fled from the room – in retrospect, that might've been more cause for concern amongst his peers, but all Kurt had been thinking about was getting out of there before Finn and Mercedes decided to bombard him with questions. He knew he'd have to deal with Finn later, but he needed time to figure out what he was going to tell him – and how he was going to convince his almost-brother not to tell his father about everything that had happened that day.

Of all the people that he'd thought _might_ try to follow him, he wasn't expecting it to be Sam – but he found that he was actually kind of pleased that it was. He wasn't as pushy as Mercedes, nor did they have the same kind of history that Kurt had with Finn, and he found himself relaxing into the easy silence that surrounded them for the first few minutes.

"So, Jay Brannan, huh?" Sam finally asked, breaking the silence as he glanced over at Kurt. He couldn't help grinning at the surprised look on the smaller teen's face, "Hey, I know a thing or two, okay?"

Kurt smiled despite himself, shaking his head a little as he looked away from Sam, "Well, colour me surprised, Evans." He tugged slightly at his sleeve as they walked out into the parking lot, "I wasn't expecting anyone to recognize the song," he admitted.

"Yeah, but if I didn't know the original I wouldn't be able to tell you that I thought you sang it better," Sam replied casually, "Which you did, by the way, in case you didn't catch what I was trying to say."

Kurt could feel himself blushing and he ducked his head a little in the hopes that Sam wouldn't notice – he doubted Sam really meant anything by it, but it was sweet nonetheless. "Thanks, Sam," he answered quietly, a faint smile on his face.

Sam grinned again at the sight of Kurt's blush and he shrugged off the thanks as he fiddled with the car keys in his pocket, "Just telling it like it is." He stopped when they reached Kurt's car and turned to face the other teen for a moment. "We still on for Saturday?" he asked, hoping that Kurt couldn't see how anxious he was about the answer – Sam felt a little bad for doubting him, but he couldn't stop himself from being nervous that Kurt would cancel. His worries disappeared when Kurt lit up at the question, and Sam's smile quickly returned to his face as he realized that he'd just put that spark back into Kurt's eyes.

"Yeah, absolutely," Kurt finally reassured him, "You can come by my place if you want, maybe after lunch or something?" He smiled when Sam nodded his agreement, "Awesome! I'll text you my address later," he added as an afterthought, raising an eyebrow curiously when Sam shook his head.

"Nah, I've got it," Sam answered, faltering a little at Kurt's questioning gaze before adding, "I mean, I had to drop Finn off after football once, and you two live together, right? I don't just like. Have your address for no reason or something like that," he promised, looking a little flustered at the way Kurt started grinning as he rambled. "I'm gonna go," he decided, reaching up to rub the back of his neck a little awkwardly, "Before I say something else that makes me sound like I'm stalking you."

Kurt couldn't stop himself from laughing a bit in response to that statement and he nudged Sam gently, "It's alright – I mean, I _am _going to be famous someday, so I suppose I can consider your stalking to be my first lesson in dealing with the paparazzi." He dug his car keys out of his bag, grinning cheekily as Sam stared at him.

"You're really something else, Hummel," he mused, a smirk having found its way back onto his face.

Kurt brushed his bangs away from his eyes and returned Sam's smirk. "I know," he confirmed. He hit the unlock button on his keychain before playfully adding, "Now move it; you're blocking access to my car." Sam rolled his eyes and stepped away from the car, and Kurt grinned, "Thanks." He pulled the door opened and tossed his bag across to land on the passenger's seat, "I'll see you tomorrow, Sam." He smiled and gave the blond a small wave before he moved to get into the car, but he turned back around, looking mildly surprised when Sam's hand wrapped around his wrist, "Sam?"

Sam hesitated for a long moment before finally saying, "I just wanna let you know that if you need someone to talk to, then I'm here for you, too. Not just tomorrow, either," he added, "I mean whenever, okay?"

Kurt was silent for a long moment; he had no doubt that he looked every bit as surprised, unsure, and pleased as he felt. They looked at each other wordlessly for a while until Sam finally let go of Kurt's wrist and the smaller teen took a step back. "Thank you," he finally answered, his voice coming out a bit more quietly than he'd hoped for. He coughed slightly and gave his friend a reassuring smile, "I really appreciate that, Sam."

If the smile on Kurt's face was any indicator, Sam figured that it was safe to believe he knew that the offer was sincere. His own smile grew a little at Kurt's comments and he shrugged, "No problem." He finally stepped away, turning in the direction of his own car, "Catch you later, man."

Kurt lingered for a moment, watching Sam walk away before he climbed into his car and drove home. Despite Sam managing to significantly lift his spirits, Kurt couldn't stop the feeling of dread that settled in his stomach when he remembered that he was still going to have to talk to Finn later.

The opportunity to do so arose a little over an hour later when Finn returned from Rachel's house. When he heard the front door close, Kurt made his way upstairs and slipped into the kitchen just in time to monitor Finn's response to their parents' questions about how his day had been. Before he could say anything too incriminating or worrisome, Kurt cut him off.

"Finn, can we talk?" he asked, meeting Finn's gaze as he feigned a casual demeanour that was far from how he actually felt.

Their parents watched in slight confusion as the two boys seemed to share a brief, wordless conversation with each other before Finn nodded. "Uh, sure, yeah," he agreed, shrugging off Carole's questioning look before following Kurt back down to their shared bedroom. He sat down on his bed, watching the smaller teen warily.

Kurt, who'd been pacing a bit, stopped to look at him before saying, "Oh, don't look so anxious, I'm not about to start yelling or crying or something." He sighed, shaking his head a little as he looked away, "I just... I wanted to ask you not to tell my dad – or your mom, for that matter – about what happened this morning." He paused, swallowing hard before clarifying, "About what I said to Dave."

Finn frowned at the request, still staring at Kurt as he replied, "I don't think that's a good idea, Kurt." He shot the other teen a look, successfully cutting off his attempt to protest, "Burt deserves to know that you're getting harassed like that, y'know? And not just because it's so messed up, but because it got to you – nothing gets to you, Kurt." Of course, he doubted the validity of that statement – maybe it would have been more accurate to say that Kurt never let anyone see that things got to him. Still, the point he was trying to make held true – their taunts had actually bothered Kurt, and that had to mean that something was wrong, right? "Your dad would want to know if you were thinking about... that," he finished, crossing his arms.

Kurt let out an exasperated sigh as he dropped onto his bed. "I'm _not_ thinking about killing myself," he muttered, his voice thick with annoyance and, he hoped, conviction, "So don't worry about not telling him anything – your conscience is clear." He risked a glance over at Finn, immediately feeling a wave of guilt when he saw the other teen's stricken expression.

"That isn't the point, Kurt." Finn sighed and looked down, fingering a hole in the knee of his jeans. "I wouldn't be telling him out of some kind of need to not be responsible for whatever you do," he continued, "I'm just worried because you're, y'know, my brother, or whatever, now and I care about you. I figure your dad cares even more about you, so he'd wanna help you out right now."

He had to admit it – it was actually kind of sweet when Finn said it that way, and it made his heart flutter in a way that was new compared to how he used to feel around Finn; his parents were the only people to ever make him feel quite like that, and he wondered vaguely if it was a demonstration of what people called 'brotherly love'. Closing his eyes, he reached up to lightly rub his temples as he apologized, "I'm sorry, it was bitter and defensive to assume your motives, and I appreciate your concern but Finn, I really am fine." He sighed, opening his eyes to look across the room and meet Finn's eyes as he added, "My dad needs as little stress as possible right now, so I just don't see any good coming from you making him worry over nothing."

Finn was quiet for a while before sighing reluctantly. The last thing Finn wanted to do was trigger another heart attack, so even though he still thought Burt deserved to know, he relented, unable to counter the point Kurt had made. "I think he'd still want to know," he mumbled, a defeated tone in his voice as he added, "But I guess you might have a point..." Kurt's sigh of relief almost made him reconsidered – why was he so worked up over something that, apparently, wasn't a big deal, anyway?

"Thank you, Finn," he whispered, offering his almost-brother a small smile as he stood up and crossed the room. "I'll call you when dinner's ready," he called over his shoulder as he made his way back upstairs.

* * *

**Disclaimer: I do not own the song quoted in this chapter (**_**Drowning**_** by Jay Brannan)  
**


End file.
